


Overwatch Debauchery

by SluttyHaruka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Cuckquean, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, Facials, Femdom, Food Sex, Groping, Hair-pulling, Maledom, Masturbation, Muscles, Orgy, Original Character(s), Prostitution, Reverse Cowgirl, Riding, Strap-Ons, Sweat, Tears, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SluttyHaruka/pseuds/SluttyHaruka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ladies (and lads) of the ridiculously popular game get up to no good (or all the good, depending how you look at it). Like everyone else, I am more partial to some heroes than others, but I won't be playing favorites. I imagine that everyone will get their turn in time, one way or another. This is may way of saying that Amelie won't be dominating this set of fictions, although she will recur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Polar Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> It is so damn cold in Antarctica that you can freeze your balls off. Luckily for one particular crew, they have a companion with a lot of… natural insulation

Even after all this time, the frost still gave her a start. One might think, given the warmth of her shapely figure - contributed to in no small part by how well bundled up she was - and the breadth of her experience inhabiting this region, that she would have acclimated to the treacherous conditions by now, but it still halted her in her tracks, provoking a shiver from her via a nerve jangling jolt to her frame. …perhaps that wasn't _entirely_ accurate. The sensation certainly cleared the early morning fog and it wasn't what she would describe as wholly pleasant, but it wasn't a vicious or even unwelcome assault on her person. She did not dread it when she turned in at night and it did not imbue her with anxiety.

Actually, it excited her. It was not a rare occurrence in the Antarctic nor was it something to treat frivolously, but it was a part of her routine that she embraced fully. She loved the way it stopped her, made her redirect her train of through to the environment about her, a tranquil yet deadly landscape providing a home, however temporarily, for her and her associates. She loved how the bite of the chill upon her bare skin burned, setting her body ablaze in an icy fire that persisted in some form for the duration of the day whether she was indoors or not. She loved how her teeth clicked together sporadically, her fingers stiffening, the joints cracking when she brought them to her face to warm them.

In a way, it was as if she was living through a continuous stream of snow days, the wondrous time of her youth returned to her to an extent, albeit in a far less carefree setting. Her fellow scientists, however, did not share her enthusiasm for the cold. The men were quite quick to vocalize their displeasure for the harsh conditions, many exclaiming that they were freezing their balls off. As grating as their tones could be, Mei could not help but chuckle, knowing fully well that their statements were false. Their low hanging fruits were very much intact and very much active. They would batter her supple flesh like frozen doorknobs, turning it a shade of red that matched her cheeks as they moved within her.

It was actually remarkably easy to fulfill the daily requirements of the operation and still have time leftover during the twilight hours for recreation. And, to be fair, they all needed it as much as they wanted it. The continent was undeniably beautiful, but isolation was a real concern and few activities alleviated the situation more than copulation. Carnal knowledge could soothe the weariest of minds, even if only for a time, and the researchers certainly enjoyed it. And why not? There was enough of her to go around and she did love being grappled by the boys so. They clawed at her garments with such feral desire, tearing them from her just enough to access her warmest places.

And she never failed to disappoint her hungry fellows, their satisfaction clear upon their countenances as they pushed into her, feeling her humid walls squeeze and suck them. They were men and needed to _be_ men so she afforded them that, but, even so, in their attempts to claim her buxom figure for their own, they were often reduced to moaning, twitching boys, grasping her hips tightly to remain holding on. It was nothing to be ashamed of, but she knew that they were self-conscious about their vocalizations, although they had no impact on their ability to recreate with her regularly. It endeared her colleagues to her, despite her own hunger being too much for any single one of them. They were thin males and she was a woman of considerable size with energy and appetite to match.

That was why she took them all at once, the lot of them and her transforming into a curled mass of sweaty, writhing flesh, cloth matted to body and glasses displaced from faces. She couldn't quite distinguish the forms of her lovers from one another when it progressed to this stage, but their touch made up for it. She didn't need to see them clearly to feel their engorgements burrow deep within her, the sweet friction their thrusting created making her salivate inside. No matter how predictable the escalation of their congress became with repetition, it did not diminish the nervous energy that consumed her, made her anticipate each new act as she savored the immediate sensations. 

She was as voracious as they, if not more so, wanting it quick and hard. She loved feeling her squishy figure jiggle from the intensity of their mating as much as she was certain they did, the drenched hemline of her coat riding up her back while they drilled both her holes. She fully lost herself in pleasure when they occupied her anus two at a time, her oral performance upon a third devolving into a sloppy, humming kiss as he throttled her mouth, hand gripping her moist locks and guiding her compliant head to his base. The wet clapping of their multi-partnered union reverberated of the walls, a lewd score for their _many_ indiscretions, persistently instigating more.

Egged on, they continued coupling in a mass of 4 - or 5 when they could manage positioning themselves in such a way to make it possible - driven to fuck each other until they collapsed in a cumslick pile of limbs. She was heavy upon them in that way, but the sight of her rear as plastered with their fluids as it was overflowing from within was worth the discomfort. There was so much of her and they covered so much of the expanse of reddened flesh with their pearly white seed, panting from the exertion required to fully satisfy her for moment, knowing quite well that she would leap to her feet before long and excuse herself to use the facilities to prepare for bed. And the next day, it would all start again, from her lively rise in the early morning to her squeak of surprise at the first shot of cum across her face, the cold of their post feeling, at least in her presence, far less desolate, imposing. Hell, in her company, the continent could even be called pleasant.


	2. Face Fuck An Egyptian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With defeat comes unavoidable consequences. Best to just suck it up and submit. (A bit nonconny and gross)

“Is this as good for you as it is for me, love?” he wheezed, his shrill voice cutting into her eardrums as his droplets of sweat and spittle rained down upon her brow and cheeks. Rather, that was what she was imagining the wet splashes to be. He was moving her head too swiftly for her to _see_ anything. Anything of a bassier tone than his shrieking was drowned out by the echo of her gurgling inside her own head. Such noise is all she offered in response to this criminal’s inane question. He cackled, increasing the pace. “Sure it is. Why else would you nod so vigorously. A justice whore like yourself can't bear to be without a good ruling now and then, now can you?” 

“Apparently not,” the gelatinous mountain behind her grumbled - something she felt more than heard - tearing away the last piece of armor that had previously encased her torso. His hands lingered on her bare stomach, smearing motor oil over her caramel toned flesh as she shuddered. He rubbed the substance across her hard cut abdominals, the glossy sheen of perspiration that had coated the entirety of her exposed flesh slowly tinting black from his ministrations. She recoiled from his touch as he moved up, but to no avail. Her mouth continued to be impaled upon Junkrat’s odious cock, limiting her movement enough, even if her limbs hadn't been disabled, that she could not squirm free of his husky embrace.

His slimy, broad hands slid over the curve of her bust, slipping intermittently as his fingers squeezed into her, sinking into her tight, yet squishy breasts. Both of them were profusely sweaty under the midday sun, but the contact of her glistening bosom with his palm sweat chilled her. Somehow, despite being skull fucked mercilessly by the bent, smegma smeared cock between her lips, it hadn’t felt real until that moment. She wasn't sure what she would have labeled it as, but she’d had every intention of never speaking of it again, silently using the experience to fuel her vendetta against these two filthy individuals. There was no context in which the groping of her chest, especially from behind, wasn't an intimate act and it turned her stomach to know that the warming of her nethers was instigated by an undesired assailant.

Pharah had half a mind to bite down on the foul sausage invading her mouth, if only to relieve her aching jaw, but resisted the urge, considering the effects of such an action to be too immediate. Sure, he would suffer, but there would be no art in it nor a way to escalate from there. While her saliva splashed up her cheeks, forced out of her by Junkrat’s rough, erratic thrusting, she began formulating a plan with a better starting point than castration. It was no simple matter, as her thoughts dwelled on the idea, fuelled by her current, unimpeded access and Roadhog’s ongoing manipulation of her breasts. She shivered, his caressing of her flesh inversely tender to the vicious assault on her orifice.

She coughed up ever more spittle, the movement making her gag as well as sore. She could feel his swollen glans prod against the back of her throat rather than thrusting down into her esophagus. The locks of her hair not tightly gripped between the peg legged criminal’s fingers whipped about, lashing her face with hushed, wet slaps. Her own brown locks were used to attack her, beating her red in small splotches that reached where the unsympathetic sun wasn't. If there was any consolation for her, it was that the early afternoon heat bared down on them as much as it did her, even if that did mean that she was steadily becoming covered in their slimy gunk. It was unnerving to dwell upon, but she knew she would have to face the state of her body when they… finished. It was better to get ahead of it before she had to see their filth dripping down her oiled skin.

There was a groan above her and, while her vision was indeed blurred, she thought she could make out her attacker glaring at the other. “Are you going to squeeze her knockers all day or are you going to join in?” he said. Mumbling under his breath, he added, “she feels a lot better than I thought she would.”

“You don't know what you are missing out on, but alright,” his companion said. Though he didn't still have her bosom within his hands, she still felt his voice rather than heard it. As he shifted around behind her, unzipping his trousers, she saw Junkrat sneaking a peek at her chest and grimacing. 

“I'll pass,” he said, pausing as he looked back down at Pharah with a smirk, “this time.” His leer drifted to her crotch. “Look at how wide your legs are spread, love! If we had known you would enjoy it this much, we would have invited some of our other associates to come along. We won't make that same mistake again.”

He continued to eyeball her fuzzy pubis and, though he was in fact seeing it drip, it wasn't for the reasons he was gloating about. She was too honest with herself to reject the idea that she was a little wet between the thighs, but she also knew _why_ she was, something they were never going to learn, at least not from her. She obviously couldn't (and wouldn't) prevent the real source of her arousal from sharing the information with others, but, as she wasn't here, Pharah could take pleasure in these idiot criminals being caught in their own self inflicted delusions while the rest of the world laughed at them. She smirked herself, her brain churning out ideas for how to use this encounter to destroy what tenuous reputations they had.

Her sense of pride was undercut by the jiggling mountain of belly fat pressing his broad cock against her back, his thick tip nestled between her shoulder blades, his hands seizing her wrists and pulling them toward him. Her eyes widened as he commenced thrusting along her spine, smearing his own smegma against her shuddering form. An obscene amount of the stuff spread across her skin, coating her in its yellowed putridity while large beads of his pre cum oozed from his urethra. She gagged harder than she’d had up until that point, feeling bile surge to her throat. She didn't know if peg leg felt it lick his glans, but she did choke it back down before it evacuated her mouth.

Pharah had never liked these two prior to this, but coming to fully grasp the true state of their filth was unpleasant in a way that she would have never wanted to imagine. Disgust replaced any arousal and pride she might have been feeling and left her desiring the end to this assault on her senses. Any comfort she could have taken in not having one of their cocks forced into her warmest areas she couldn't even consider, for the alternative was far too heinous for her mind to take. How could anyone, impoverished or not, allow their bodies to rot like this? It distressed her that she would have to wait until they finished to flee to a shower. She couldn't wait to _thoroughly_ wash herself.

Fortunately, they did not last long beyond that moment, the swelling of their pricks coming suddenly. She didn't give in to relief, however, anticipating fittingly repulsive emissions from these two. With the thick, pungent initial globs that filled sprayed upon her, she found that she had given them too much credit. As Junkrat blasted her throat with his cum and Roadhog shot up the nape of her neck into her damp hair, she had to focus all her energy on not vomiting, a feat that quickly became more trouble than it was worth. There was so much of their ejaculate and, as hard as she tried to swallow it down and ignore the sickly crawl of the fluid on her back, it kept being quickly replaced with more. It overflowed from her lips and spread along her shoulders. She coughed, choked and gagged, only finding respite after a river of the stuff had dribbled between her breasts to her pubis and to the slopes of her rear. 

Junkrat vacated her mouth, grinning as he roughly wiped the length of his cock off on her cheeks, slapping her with it. She gasped while more of his load gushed from her mouth, drizzling onto the ground. “Now that is beautiful. If only I had a camera, silly me.” He stretched as his companion rose to his feet. “Thanks for the memories, slut. Can't wait to show _Mercy_ the same great time.”

Pharah’s eyes widened as he zipped up trousers and turned on his wooden heel, her body nearly frozen in place, barely moving when Roadhog tossed a piece of armor into her back. Scum slick and stunned, she remained still as they departed, wondering if her Mistress really did share stories about their time together with those criminals. Why?


	3. Autumnal Shocker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When she is callously ejected from her pimp’s car, Lena Oxton quickly discovers that it isn’t the only crude surprise she is in for on this cold, Autumnal night.
> 
> Co-written with Tsvitok, based on a short prompt they sent me through tumblr.

Crossing her arms under her chest, Lena Oxton huffed and stamped her heel into the pavement. Between the pleading and screaming and the nudity, she probably seemed like quite the spectacle to the passersby. While it was undeniably humiliating to be standing there in the cold winter air with her hourglass figure bare for all to see, the shock of having been booted from Amélie’s car with no provocation (that she could think of) was what really left her red in the face and shivering in place.

Knowing fully well that she couldn’t remain where she was for much longer without risking law enforcement being called on her, she scrunched her nose and swallowed her pride, beginning her walk to her actual post. Given that her cold-hearted pimp forced her out of the vehicle a block away from the spot, Lena was forced to close the distance herself, traversing a rank, shadowed alley, feeling the gazes of the pedestrians gravitating to her chest as she moved. None of them seemed to be the type able to afford her - not that it stopped them from giving her a good eyefucking - so she hunched forward and did her best to cover her assets, her fishnet stocking and six inch pumps making her feel more exposed than she would have had she been completely naked. 

That _damn, icy_ Frenchwoman expected her to make some serious bank before she returned, a task that would not be even remotely easy with her rubbing her arms for warmth all night, but them’s the breaks, Lena guessed. Though getting stiffed before she actually started getting _stiffed_ was certainly a terrible beginning to the evening, the small brunette also knew that she could still salvage it with a little spit, a little grip and a little bit of that ol’ Tracer charm. And it was just as her mood was brightening that she was stopped dead in her tracks midway through the alleyway.

Materializing from behind the partially lidded dumpster beside her was a plump, strangely luminescent pumpkin, seemingly approaching her on its own. With a seductive grin carved into its face, it appeared to be winking at her. Then came its voice, deep and croaking. “How much for a ride, baby?”

Her mouth hung agape and her brow furrowed, the shock of what she saw (and heard) freezing her in place. She had only just started to accept her pimp’s casual cruelty and now hollowed out produce was addressing her.

The pumpkin bounced up and down on the spot like an old-timey cartoon, dozens of thick green vines sprouting from its stem. “Sorry for the scare. I spotted you so fair, and thought that I might dare, to ask for some time to share. I have plenty of cash, so please do not dash, though I fear my words are rash, but I’m quite sure I can afford your ass.”

Her cheeks reddened deeper, embarrassment setting in and making itself known. Though this surreal encounter had completely exceeded the realm of absurdity by this point, she couldn’t deny to herself that _what_ she was hearing was having a… positive effect on her. Between her inner thighs, sticky arousal dribbled down, her body heating even while her mind continued to be baffled. 

“Alright, love, you can give ‘er a go,” she agreed, with much hesitation.

True to its word, the pumpkin procured a wad of cash from out of its mouth and offered it to the attractive young prostitute, its vines groaning in anticipation of getting what it wanted. For a brief moment, her eyes widened at the amount. This strange thing was offering up far more than she would make with 5 or 6 johns. However, as she eyed it and its slithering appendages, her expression shifted, her brow arching and her lips pulling together in a smirk. It could be worth it to try something new, at least.

It crept closer, its protuberances growing bigger, thicker as she took the money and stuffed it into her purse. As soon as she had taken the money, those vines were on her skin, the smoothness of them surprising her, yet not the forcefulness. They coiled around her legs and arms, dozens of tendrils snaking over her skin, tickling her nerve endings. They elicited slivers as they curled around her limbs and torso, squeezing her bust and pushing it upward, making it appear that she was bursting out of a taut, uniquely textured top. Whatever substance the veggie tentacles were slick with smeared across her flesh, stimulating her areolae, this new bondage pressing and shifting against her hardening nubs. With a low noise, she sharply exhaled, confusion and arousal compounding into pure arousal.

She longed to cup her bosom, intensify the constriction around each orb, but her extremities were pried open into a spread eagled position, leaving her at the pumpkin’s mercy as its body shuffled up between her legs, a large fleshy tongue extended outward. Its foliage wrapped around her nipples, flickering over them, licking over her supple flesh.

Using two smaller appendages to part her folds - and subsequently worm their way inside, wriggling along her inner walls - the lewd hunk of fruit went to work on her, orally lashing her cunt with a ferocity that could only be matched by her pimp. Her breath caught and her hips jerked, her sensitive flesh twitching and smarting under its ministrations, subtly pulling her closing to him. She was nearly too drunk on lust to notice the dry, hardened stub prodding her anus, but, oh, did she notice! Sobering up a bit, she recoiled, squirming in its grasp, reduced to a coughing fit when it plugged her mouth with yet more vines.

It further tightened its hold on her, stilling her squirming as it pressed into her pucker. It wanted full control as it thrust inside her, filling her ass with its thick girth, its wide bulb tunneling deep, distending her inner walls. Her mind went blank, the air draining from her lungs due to the slithering mass flooding her mouth and the rough anal pounding she was receiving. The lapping of its orange tongue on her sex had her bound limbs violently shuddering and her fluids splashing over its plump shape. 

Her convulsions had her clenching around its engorged knot firmly, the friction of their coupling burning her in such a delectable way as her flesh drug along it. The pumpkin must have enjoyed this sensation as much as her, because it trilled within her, vibrating her folds, intensifying the stifled moans the battering of her bottom was eliciting. The appendages plugging her maw wormed their way into her throat, melding together into the shape of a veggie cock - something she could taste and smell rather than see - and proceeded to fuck her gullet. 

The sweet scent of pumpkin spice clouded her mind, the taste of fresh pumpkin pie heavy on her tongue, as the lewd produce stretched her tight throat. Her belly and her neck bulged, its vine dicks distending her holes. Ripe and full, they pushed harder and deeper inside her, filling her stomach and her ass until she was fit to burst. The fruit’s tongue slathered her cunt in its sticky sap, the width of its organ intermittently catching on her flesh, making her feel like her walls were being tugged on throughout this delicious skewering. 

The three intrusions continued throttling her orifices, roughly using her carnal embrace to satisfy themselves and, oh, was it working _extraordinarily_ well. Just as her vision began to dim and the choking hold of asphyxiation set in around her neck, the phalluses spasmed in an unmistakably orgasmic fashion. Salty flavored relief washed her insides, seeding her with the magical fucking creature’s goo while its tongue worked her to completion.

She climaxed on the creature’s tongue, sticky hot grool pouring from her aching cunt. Her entire body warmed, her lungs burned, everything went black except for the taste and feel and scent of the cocks pumping sap into her. Rich, creamy syrup gushed from her every hole, including her nose. They swelled so warmly as the vines finally retreated, letting her swallow down the dregs spilling out into her mouth, leaving her hungrier for pumpkin cum than the air her body needed. Released, she fell to the ground, landing on her bubbly ass, her tongue hanging out, her mind numb to everything but the pleasure still twisting and writhing within her.

“Thanks for the pump and suck, toots,” the fruit said, its mouth separating from her folds. “I desperately needed to drain mah nuts.” The blissed out Brit gargled something, her attempt at a response impeded by the thick substance clogging her orifices. The satisfied john hobbled closer to her limp form, the tone of its voice betraying its artificially static expression. “What was that, slut?”

Swallowing down as much pumpkin goo as she could, she choked out her answer. “Toots and nuts don’t rhyme.”

Grumbling beneath its breath, the pumpkin bounced off into the darkness once more, lighter than it had been when it approached her.

Slumped in the alley with a belly full of pumpkin and a fat wad of cash for a quick twenty minutes work, Lena licked her lips. Amélie would certainly be pleased with that, though not so much with the swollen belly. Them’s just the breaks, she figured, her lashes fluttering as her eyes focused.

She struggled to her feet and headed off down the alley to her usual spot - heavier due to the little detour, but definitely not regretting it. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was the strangest thing she would encounter tonight.


	4. Healing the Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween is the best night of the year to explore unusual ideas and possibilities. For one couple, the unusual takes the form of some playful role reversal.

Mercy sniffled, the pressure in her sinuses transforming the simple action into a laborious exercise. “I can’t believe it,” she said, doing her best to contain the free flowing mucus within the wadded up tissues she brought to her face.

A voice answered her from the bathroom, “I know, love.” Though the door muted her somewhat, her tone was the exact smooth, firm sort that had a calming effect on the ailing physician. It was doubtless that the responding woman would take great care of her in the hours to come, but she desired to hear her speak more.

“I wanted so badly to ascend to the skies upon a broom; it would have been so perfect in this outfit. It took so long to design...”

“The night is still young, darling.”

The blonde sighed, a smile spreading across her sick features as her body warmed, in a _pleasant_ way. “I _know_ , but I cannot recover before dawn. It’s impossible.”

In an instant, the door went from being slightly ajar to wide open, revealing the tall figure standing behind it. Ziegler’s jaw dropped and her pulse hastened, her gaze arrested by the scantily clad _vision_ at the threshold of their chambers. It certainly wasn’t the first time she had seen her lover dressed in an infatuating fashion, but this was different; she had never been provocative in this one _particular_ way. It rendered Angela speechless, something the responsible woman seemed to relish. She bit her lip as she sauntered forward, hand on her hip, the heels of her thigh high boots clacking on the floorboards.

With a soft hum, she spoke her retort, the grin on her face growing ever more smug as she watched the effect it had on her partner. “How can such a thing be impossible when Nurse Fareeha is here to treat you?”

Mercy whimpered, her limbs quivering, nervous energy rocking her body. Though her nose was no less congested than it had been when she flounced onto the mattress moments ago, her raised temperature no longer felt like the result of her immune response. Looking upon Pharah was making her hot, afflicting her erogenous zones with a tingling that intensified as she approached the foot of the bed. It was comparable only to the night two decades prior when she had first shared her body with someone, the chaotic eagerness of teenage lust once again seizing her. 

The Security Chief, her Hallow’s Eve caregiver, wore vinyl _so damn well_. Her figure filled it out completely, chiseling her shape into it. Her bust was nearly bursting out of her cropped top, the size of it straining the limits of the zipper, just a few interlocked teeth keeping her packed in. Below her finely sculpted upper abdomen, her high-waisted booty shorts began, extending as far down as her crotch. Angela couldn’t quite see it from this angle, but she was quite sure that Pharah’s ass looked just as fine in the material as her chest.

She had precious little time dwell on that line of thinking before the brunette grabbed her legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed, spreading her wide open as she descended to her knees. “Oh, my,” she squeaked.

“Do not worry, my sweet Madame of magic, I will restore you to a healthy condition,” the Nurse said, winking at the stunned blonde.

She leaned forward, pressing her peach painted lips to the woman’s cunt, massaging it through the drenched layer of fabric encasing it. Slowly, softly, she extended her tongue, running it down the length of Angela’s slit. She kissed and licked her sickly partner’s engorged folds, eliciting congested coos and sighs from her as she brought her hands inward, squeezing her thighs. She felt her witch go stiff in her grasp, the twitches of muscular contractions rippling across her fingers.

Pharah flared her nostrils, her eyes widened with surprise as her mouth broke contact. “Wow, you seem to be improving already, Madame.”

“Please don’t stop, Nurse,” Mercy cried, pulling the woman’s head back to her groin. With the connection reestablished, she ground against the Egyptian’s face. “I am still quite ill yet.”

The brunette’s chuckle vibrated her folds, making her squirm in her grip. She melted under her lover’s increasingly intense affections, her vocalizations shaky. Her gloved fingers brushed over Pharah’s first aid hat, then grabbed her hair, then clawed at the bedsheet. She was all reflexes, capable only of staccato purrs and convulsive movements. Her toes curled within her boots, except they didn’t - her sweat slick feet were bare. As she realized this, it became clear to her that her caregiver’s tongue was _inside_ of her. And she was _deep_ , slathering her tongue over _everything_.

Looking down, she could see the Nurse’s head subtly rock to and fro and her thumb rub her fully awakened clit, a night goddess administering to her needs. Wet with her fluids, the brunette’s black painted nails grazed against her tender flesh, scratching down the length of her. She bucked her hips erratically, shrieking as her back arched and her legs pulled inward. Her ankles touched and, for a moment, she felt an absence between her thighs. Withdrawal disheartened her, her mind too hazy to recognize her brief emptiness for what it was. 

That wait swiftly ended, however, with the pressing of her lover's pelvis against her own, two strong, defined legs interlinking with hers. Her eyes flickered open and beheld Pharah hovering over her, her booty shorts discarded, replaced by a harness supporting a rather thick specimen. Raising her eyebrow, she pushed into Ziegler, spearing her puffy lips in a single thrust. She held the blonde still, pinning her thigh under her arm, preventing her from recoiling out of her clutches. The doctor mewled as she was fucked, her muscles contracting continuously and her juices spraying across the brunette’s creamy brown skin. She growled, nuzzling the blonde and driving her piece in deeper. 

The howling her action provoked invigorated her further, driving her hips forward harder. The joining of their bodies produced such terribly lewd squelching. Had their faces not already been reddened by lust and exertion, the sweet embarrassment elicited by the loudness of their intimate noises would have done the trick. It was one of the joys of them having known one another for most of their lives, long before entering into this carnal relationship. Gazing into each other’s eyes, they felt that shyness color their coupling even now. Strong and as in control as Pharah was, her features were soft, empathetic.

“Are you finding my treatment effective, my love?” she asked, in a whisper.

“Oh, Fa-ree-haa,” Mercy gasped, sinking her teeth into her knuckle. “Yes..., please more.”

Nuzzling her neck, the Nurse hilted inside of her, grinding against her slick cunt. “Of course, darling. You shall fly tonight, one way or another.”


	5. Love, Fareeha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercy opens an email from her paramour to find that it is a confession of Pharah’s heterosexual dalliances behind her back.

_Dear Angela,_

_my angel, my love, tears stain my cheeks as I type this._

 

Dr. Ziegler sucked her teeth. “That is quite an ominous statement to lead with, Fareeha,” she said under her breath.

Truth be told, it was her eighth read of the email, her own face streaked by the welling in her eyes, her shaky hands making the mouse scroll up and down the page erratically. She wasn’t sure why she was stalling, torturing herself with her partner’s bittersweet words, but she couldn’t bring herself to click the link at the bottom of the email. Perhaps the message had become a temporary refuge, sheltering her from the looming storm for as long as she could feign ignorance; perhaps she was attempting to convince herself that she could wish the revelations within out of existence, rendering the screen a pure, unbroken white.

Her gaze drifted back up to subject line of email for the tenth time. She sniffled, biting her lip as she felt her will wither. Her sight blurred again. Hunching forward, she wrapped her arm around her abdomen, holding herself while she scrolled back down to the video file, her mind sinking into her seat as she clicked on it.

Her sobs were choked silent, the visual facing her too unreal for her brain to process. Smooth, creamy flesh that she had come to know intimately over the past few years was gyrating before her, sleek with the perspiration that accompanied passionate intercourse. It dripped down the small of her back and across the slopes of her taut derrière, glistening in the soft light that bathed her. Mercy stared, slack-jawed, the beauty of that Junoesque body causing her actual physical pain, possibly _more_ so than what it was doing. 

Fareeha was a living Amazon, stunningly tall and achingly gorgeous, her presence alone enough to make every day worthwhile, the sight of her sending the doctor’s heart aflutter. This effect had not been nullified by this documented betrayal - not _at all_ \- and it was sending her lover’s mind reeling. Each clap of their sexes, each squelch of their coital embrace pierced Ziegler’s heart, the thudding of which echoed in her ears. But she could not look away, she _would not_. The woman before her was a vision beyond compare and the bond between them couldn’t be severed as long as she gazed upon her.

She was well aware of the futility of her actions, the pathetic nature of her coping mechanism, but, as long as the video played, it worked. Unblinkingly, she watched her beloved move atop her new suitor, her powerful hips bucking against him, seemingly unencumbered by the armor encasing her limbs. This...tryst must have been spur of the moment, because only her helmet and torso plate had been removed, her locks matting to the nape of her neck. Metal clanked with each bounce, interspersed with soft, achingly amorous sighs.

Angela could nearly taste her lover’s wetness, the sound of it schlicking across his cock as her cunt squeezed him with mounting urgency igniting cherished sense memory. The doctor’s cheeks reddened, the sweet pressure of Fareeha’s thighs closing around them like a phantom limb. Her own legs clamped together, the heat between them dripping across her nylons, splattering the tiles below her chair. Her breath caught, becoming throatier when she remembered to exhale.

Ziegler’s fingers crept their way down her form as she watched her Egyptian beauty lean back, digging her claws into his knees while hastening her stroke, her buttocks slick with sweat. The blonde’s digits slid between her thighs, finding their mark with distressing ease, working her the way her lover would when she wanted to hear her scream. Exhausted and shaken from her sobbing, Angela could not stifle her noises, quickly matching the raspy passion of her straying partner. 

For the first time in weeks, they moaned together, desire driving their hips forward ever harder. Were it not for the visual of illicit congress before her, she would have imagined them joined at their sexes, letting the frenzied friction between them rock them with limitless climaxes. Instead, she was fucking herself to a recording of her Fareeha coupling with an as yet anonymous male, fervently impaling herself upon his thick shaft. Angela watched her folds become taut around his girth, dragging across it after each kiss of their groins. She violently fingered her twitching cunt, anticipating what was to follow.

The wait was brief.

Stiffening beneath her, the suitor grunted.

“That’s it, cadet,” Fareeha cooed, holding his head to her breast as she ground herself against his pelvis. “Seed me with your hot spunk.”

His scrotum twitched, lifting up as it drained its contents into her, teasing her winking anus with its coarse texture. Combined with his virile grunts, there was a slurping noise, presumably due to him suckling her teats as he inseminated her. She moaned throatily, languidly clapping her filled cunt against his lap as milky white rivulets flowed from her labia, down his shaft. 

“Mmm,” she purred. “Give it all to me. Paint my womb, soldier.”

He groaned, violently jerking his hips, her comment apparently abbreviating his refractory period, causing him to ejaculate again.

Biting her lip, Angela aggressively stroked her g spot, her eyes rolling back in her head and her hips bucking hard in her own climax. Moaning, she kept her fingers moving, working her contracting muscles as her mind went blank. All she could see was the mental image of her lover seated upon her suitor, writhing in ecstasy as he fucked his new load into her, mating her with all the ferocity a goddess of her make inspired. The doctor mewled, her desire to see her Fareeha in the throes of treacherous passion prolonging and intensifying her orgasm.

She showered the chair, her legs, the floor and the monitor with her lust, breathily finishing only once every surface around her was slick with her essence. She opened her eyes, finding that she was sat upon the floor, her seat having been displaced in the chaos. There was movement behind her, soft steps taken with stilettos. Soon, there was a hand upon her shoulder, and another stroking her tousled hair.

“Was it everything you hoped for, my love,” a familiar, husky voice asked.

Angela exhaled contentedly, leaning into the touch. “Of course.” She then sucked her teeth, wagging her dripping feet. “Then again, you could have salted the wound more.” 

Fareeha grabbed her chin, angling her face toward her own. “You sick bitch,” she spat, kissing her.


End file.
